I Remember Your Name
by King Caspian the Seafarer
Summary: Happy Valentines Day everyone, from Leon! CorinXLucy AU fic, that takes place after the Pevensies return to our world. Corin is grieving. Set with the words to "Lucy" by Skillet.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia, nor the song "Lucy" by skillet.**

**A/N: Mwahah...bonjour, mon amies! Ces le jour de valentine...or for all you who are speaking English, it's Valentines Day! C'est the only day KC lets me run loose...me, Leon, the master of insanity and lurve.**

**This fic today is being sad. It takes place after the Pevensies return to England after LWW, and is being about Prince Corin who some are thinking was in love with Queen Lucy. I and KC are not believing it for a second, but I wrote this anyway because it was an interesting idea. The song "Lucy" is very sad, and some have written it with Peter or Edmund or Susan singing to Lucy. As far as I am knowing, no one has written it about Corin. Because it is being CorinXLucy, it is AU. But may you enjoy it anyway, and as KC likes to say, "Have a wonderful Hated Day of Pink." KC is not liking pink. :) -Leon**

* * *

**I Remember Your Name**

**_Hey Lucy, I remember your name._**

_**I left a dozen roses on your grave today**_

The clay beneath his knees was hard and cold, cold like death, but he hardly noticed. It was staining his trousers with the dull red Narnian mud. It reminded him of blood, of the way her cheeks would flush after a hard gallop or impulsive race, of the proud Narnian banner that now hung at half-mast in mourning for their sovereign's loss.

It was exactly one shade browner than the roses he'd brought. Red. They were her favorite. He'd never really cared for them before, but seeing them in the market square brought back the fragrance of those fragile summer days, the laughter, the way her eyes would smile—and he'd almost fallen completely apart, right there in the busy street.

There was one white among the bunch. She would always tuck the white one behind her ear, weave it among the curling gold of her tresses, and hold the rest close as she stared off into the sunset.

And now, here he was on her grave. Her grave. The words etched on the stone before him stunned him so acutely, pierced his heart so stabbingly a poinard would've hurt less. After all, he'd loved her—what? Three months? But in his mind he'd loved her always. In his mind it was always him and Lucy on the back of the white stallion that galloped into the sunset. But that was a fairy tale. A dream. A never-ever-could-be-in-a-million-years.

Because now there was no hope for even telling her goodbye.

_**I'm in the grass on my knees wipe the leaves away**_

_**I just came to talk for a while got some things I need to say**_

He brushed the leaves away gently. Red and yellow; the colors of autumn. Lucy had loved autumn, loved wandering through the avenues and forests, speaking with the dryads and weaving a coronet of the fiery leaves that looked wilder and more fitting, somehow, than her golden crown.

Probably the thing he regretted the most was never telling her the truth. That he loved her. Of course it would've been silly: him only seventeen and her near twenty five. He'd been a friend to her; nothing more, nothing less. But to him, she'd been everything. And now that everything was gone, there was nothing left with which to love.

It was only now that he'd gathered the courage to actually say it. Now that she was dead and could never respond, either to laugh and call him silly or to smile and requite the emotion swelling in his heart.

"I loved you, Valiant," he choked past the lump in his throat. His fingers closed round the rose stems so tightly that the thorns cut through his skin and brought blood, but he did not care. Not anymore.

_I loved you, blast it!_

_**Now that it's over**_

_**I just want to hold her**_

He'd held her once. They'd been on a picnic, just him and Cor and Aravis and Lucy, and it had started raining. Of course. On the ride back, Lucy's horse had started at a crash of thunder and reared up, sending her unsuspecting rider flying as she flew for home. The queen had twisted her ankle, and though Cor had offered, it was Corin (strong even at sixteen thanks to his boxing) who had carried her back to Anvard in front of him on his stallion. He still remembered the feel of her body against his, and the way she'd given him a cheeky grin when he'd mentioned being her knight in shining armor.

_**I'd give up all the world to see**_

_**That little piece of heaven looking back at me**_

Everything seemed pale in her absence; the sky was hardly blue, and the grass was never green. And as for gold…well, even the age of gold had faded until only a tarnished memory was left. She had been vibrant, and the world without her was like a painting that's been left in the sun: washed out and flat and colorless as a wind that bites in the chill of bitter winter.

Times like this Corin was glad he was only the prince of Archenland. Cor had been a steady rock for the people, and for him. If they hadn't found him (and Aravis, who was like a rock for Cor in the darkest of nights) who knew what would've become of everything after Narnia fell to pieces and Corin with it. He would have given anything to see her again, just once more. The memories were faint now, and always growing fainter. Soon he wouldn't remember her face, and at this moment, kneeling on her grave, he would rather die than reach that day.

_**Now that it's over I just want to hold her**_

_**I've got to live with the choices I made **_

_**And I can't live with myself today**_

They'd quarreled the day before the hunt. The whole castle had been quiet afterwards, all of them (royal siblings included) fearful of saying something that might set either off again. It was rare that the two quarreled. He was almost eight years younger, and both were so carefree and easy-going that it always caused quite a stir when they did fight.

It had been something so trivial; about his favorite dog, or her missing necklace, or something of the such. He didn't even remember, which almost made it worse. Because then they hadn't spoken for the rest of the day, or the next, which was the day she left. She and the others had ridden off with Cor and Aravis and a few of the courtiers. He'd stayed behind, sulking. But he'd watched them go. He'd almost run out and asked her forgiveness right then and there, seeing the sun reflect off her hair like that and the pained look in her dear sweet eyes.

But he hadn't, and that was the thing he would regret for the rest of his life.

_**Hey Lucy I remembered your birthday**_

_**They said it'd bring some closure to say your name**_

On her birthday he refused to leave his room. There was a council or some bother that day, and King Lune sent Cor up to bring him down.

Wondering if his brother had merely slept in or whether something was up, Cor knocked on the door loudly. No answer. After a moment of waiting, he tried the door handle. It was locked. He hissed, "Blast!" and knocked again, louder.

"Corin? I know you're in there. Come out, will you? Father wants you for the council."

Again, no answer. Perhaps Corin wasn't in there after all. Maybe he'd gone out for a ride just to escape having to attend. So then why was the door locked?

"Corin?" he asked again, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "Blast it, Corin, why won't you answer me? Father's going to have a fit!"

Still, nothing.

"If you don't open your door, I'll tell Penelope you're too shy to admit that you like her."

There was something like a muffled sob from inside. Immediately his teasing turned to concern.

"Corin? I say, are you all right? Why won't you open up? Is something wrong? I won't tell Father if that's what you're worried about."

He waited, but only stubborn silence answered him. After a moment or so, the concern turned to worried anger, and he hammered on the door once more, shouting, "Corin, if you don't open this blasted door I'll find Dar and have him take it off its hinges, and then you'll have to explain to _him_ what this business is all about."

Dar was their arms instructor. It was rather mean of him to threaten to go to him for help, as he was probably the last person in front of whom Corin would want to look weak, but Cor was getting desperate by now. For about a minute he thought he might have to go through with it after all, but then the lock clicked and the door opened.

He ducked from instinct. It was a good thing, for a fist shot out and just missed hitting him squarely in the jaw. All the concern he'd felt vanished as he sprang forward and collided with his twin, tackling Corin to the ground just inside his room. Both of them landed on the stone solidly, and it drove the wind from Corin's lungs. Cor rose to his knees, ready to defend himself if his twin tried to attack him again, but Corin just lay there gasping, holding his side with a grimace. He raised his eyes after a moment, angry and vengeful and something else that Cor couldn't quite put a finger on.

"You…sneaking…little…"

"You're the one who wouldn't open up," Cor retorted, raising his eyebrow as he stood and brushed himself off.

He held out a hand to help his brother up. Corin stared at it for a long moment, as if he'd rather spit on it than take it, but at last he grabbed it with a crushing grip and stood slowly. Cor looked him over, noticed his twin's pale face and the dark circles that lurked beneath his eyes, and shook his head in bewilderment.

"You look awful."

Corin gave him a glare and rubbed at his ribs.

"When I want your opinion I'll ask for it."

There was a bitter note in his voice that hadn't been there for a while. Or maybe it had, but today it was more noticeable than it had been before.

"Father wants you at the council."

"Tell him I'm sick."

Cor sighed and smacked his brother's shoulder gently.

"I won't lie for you, Corin. You'll have to tell him yourself—though you've so conveniently 'been sick' so often on council days that I don't think he'll believe you."

He hadn't noticed how dark the room was until now. There were no candles lit, no lanterns hung. The drapes hung low over the windows. It felt like night, so heavy hung the darkness in that place. Now whatever had possessed his brother to make it so dark? Cor glanced again at the pale face before him, and wondered if the excuse wasn't maybe true this once.

"I don't care if he believes it or not. I'm not coming," Corin said quietly, like a stubborn child who's just declared he won't go to bed.

He began walking over to the bed, indicating that the audience was through, but Cor waited by the door and watched him carefully in silence for a moment.

"Corin." The younger twin stopped. "What's wrong?"

There was a long moment of silence in which Corin seemed to tense up and Cor prepared himself to turn and run in case he was suddenly sprung at. But instead of attacking, Corin turned and fixed his brother with a harried, haunted look.

"How would you feel if Aravis died?"

Cor reddened slightly, but then paled, wondering if Corin knew something that he didn't.

"What? You don't mean something's happened, that she's—"

The ghost of a smile that flickered across Corin's face put an end to that train of thought. Cor blushed again and looked at his hands.

"Awful, I guess. Like a part of me was missing. She's the best friend I've ever had—beside you, of course, though it's not exactly the same kind of friendship."

Corin nodded grimly, and continued.

"And if she died, would you just…forget her?"

Cor wondered where this was going, but shook his head obediently.

"Never. I don't think I could, even if I wanted to. The way she looks—the things we've done together…"

"Especially," Corin said suddenly, interrupting his reverie, "on her birthday. Think of how you'd feel then."

October 27. Out of the blue it stuck Cor that the date was familiar, as if they'd celebrated something...but he couldn't remember.

And then, abruptly, he did.

"Oh." So that was why Corin looked so awful. "Oh."

It was such a shocking revelation that he didn't know what to say. Somehow he got the feeling that Corin didn't really care. He wanted to slap himself upside the head for forgetting—for being so blasted insensitive—but he hadn't known. He hadn't remembered.

"Do…do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

The older brother gave a heavy sigh and turned toward the door. He paused in the doorway to look back at the other whose head was bowed with grief.

"Corin. I truly am sorry about what happened."

Silence. The pale face and wide, dry eyes filled his mind. He'd cried, Cor knew, but he'd never admit it. And he'd cry yet. In that moment, Cor felt more like an older brother than he had before.

"I'll tell Father you're sick."

Silence again. But in it was unspoken gratitude that somehow passed from the younger to the older in the silence through the bond they shared. If Corin had been able to speak, he might have thanked his brother aloud.

_**I know I'd do it all different if I had the chance**_

_**But all I've got are these roses to give and they can't help me make amends.**_

"Lucy," he whispered on the third visit to her grave, two years after the incident, with her roses in his hands. He could say her name again without feeling that overpowering emotion, that grief too great for words. There was still grief, yes, but he could say it without the danger of bursting into tears.

The worst of it was that they hadn't even found her body. The grave was a marker, a memorial that would fade with time and crumble into pieces as the ages past, but there was no part of her connected with it. Still, it helped him remember.

"Lucy," he whispered again. "Was it because of me—because of our quarrel—that you left? Did you die because I wasn't there to save you? Because I'm such a thick-witted fool—" he choked on his anger and stopped. His face was wet, blast it. It always ended up wet when he came to this place, but that didn't stop him from returning again and again. It was almost a pilgrimage now; to visit Lucy's grave when he visited Narnia. Silly, yes; sentimental, certainly; but every time he came it brought a flood of relief as he released the emotions that were not allowed to come out elsewhere.

"You silly goosecap," she'd called him a few days before the hunt, her blue eyes sparkling like the clear October sky. "Of course we'll always be friends. I hope we shall never be anything but."

Of course, he'd hoped differently by then, but why couldn't he have said something!

_Living with regrets,_ Corin thought with a grim smile, _is much harder than living without ever having loved._

_**Here we are; now you're in my arms **_

_**I never wanted anything so bad **_

Sometimes at night he would squeeze his pillow tightly in his arms and pretend it was her. It felt good to hold _something_ close to him, even if it was only filled with down feathers. And then he would fall asleep and dream it was Lucy, always Lucy; sometimes they were on a picnic, sometimes riding into the sunset. But always he awakened with tears in his eyes and an empty ache in his heart. Missing what he'd never had in the first place.

_**Here we are for a brand new start **_

_**Living the life that we could've had **_

Partly the idea that they hadn't found her body gave him hope. Perhaps she was still alive—wandering or captured in some lonely wood or vale. Part of him insisted that she wasn't dead, but the others said that was how grief felt at first.

Three years after the disappearance of the four, the grief reached a new height of pain. Corin wandered in the woods for three days, hardly feeling bite of frost or warmth of sun. He fell on his knees in a grassy place that was so filled with beauty it would make your heart break and put his head in his hands.

His appetite for love had come and gone since her death. Cor and the others had repeatedly told him he'd find someone else. And maybe he would, someday. Some of the girls at Anvard weren't too bad. But it's said that one never forgets one's first love, and Corin knew he never would, even as he pictured another laughing face in his mind, one with hair of flames and eyes of flashing gray.

_**Me and Lucy walking hand in hand **_

_**Me and Lucy never want to end **_

"I'll never forget you, Lu," he whispered quietly. "And I hope…wherever you are…that you remember me."

As a friend, his mind added for him. It was too late to try to change what had happened. And they could go on being friends forever, no matter what else they had missed because of her leaving.

But he couldn't help but wish that things had been different.

"It is not for you to know what would have happened," said a voice from behind him, so strong that it shook the leaves above him and the ground beneath him.

Corin turned with clenched jaw and fiery eyes to face the Great Lion. He had to take several deep breaths before he could speak.

"You let her die. All of them. Perhaps it was even your fault. And what I want to know is how…" his voice broke. "How am I supposed to go on living without her?"

The High King above All Kings let out a low growl; his eyes gleamed with a fearsome flame, and yet compassion, as well intermixed.

"What is love, Son of Adam?"

Corin replied with a statement straight from his heart.

"What I had for Lucy."

The Lion was silent for a moment, so long that Corin had time to realize how foolish and stubborn he sounded. He stared down at the grass, waiting like a sulky child resentfully waits for its parent's reproof.

"Do you love your father, Son of Adam?"

Corin lifted his eyes again and raised an eyebrow in bewilderment.

"Of course I do."

"And your brother, Cor?"

"I would die for him," the younger twin replied without a moment's hesitation. "But it's not the same kind of love…is it?"

The Lion made a noise that was something between a growl and a chuckle and let out a warm golden breath that eased the tightness in the prince's face.

"Love begins the same in any case, my son. You profess to love Queen Lucy. Would you give your life for hers, as you would for your brother?"

"In a heartbeat," Corin choked.

The Lion's gaze penetrated his outer layers of defense and saw right into his heart as the great golden voice spoke again.

"And if leaving was best for Lucy, would you love her enough to lay down your own desires and let her live as I will?"

The breath caught in Corin's throat, and he hung his head in shame. Selfish love. Wanting her, wanting her love, and not thinking about what she might want at all. Not really, even though he would've willingly taken an arrow or rapier-thrust for her sake. But perhaps, just maybe, he hadn't loved her exactly the way he should've.

"Even if that was wrong, and even though she's gone, I can't see how I'll ever love again."

"You are young," the Lion replied gently, his deep voice resounding in the chilly glade. "There will be another. Mourn, prince; mourn for the dead. There is a time for everything under the sun. But when dawn breaks in your heart and the sun rises once more, put aside your grief and take joy in the land I have given you and your kinsmen."

The Lion stooped low and breathed on him again, that wonderful emboldening breath that smelt of gold and some otherworldly perfume. There were tears in Aslan's eyes as he spoke once more, very softly in Corin's ear.

"But for now, as you mourn your loss, remember, Adam's Son: the greatest evidence of love is sacrifice."

_**Just another moment in your arms **_

_**I'll see you in another life **_

_**In heaven where we never say goodbye**_

Seasons came and went. Fall turned to winter, and winter to spring. Seven springs brought the sound of laughter to the solemn glade; children's laughter, joyful and gay and almost eerie in its carefree ringing.

"Which way is it, Da?"

"Not that way, silly!" answered another childish voice. "Why would it be in a thicket of thorns?"

A man stood in the arch of ivy and peered into the shadowed vale the children had passed up. His eyes searched the ground until they lit upon the stone marker, and a flicker of a smile passed through them.

"Over here!" he shouted over his shoulder.

The woman reached him first. Her long auburn hair hung in a loose braid that draped over her left shoulder and hung down almost to her waist. She gave the man a curious look with her sharp gray eyes and raised an eyebrow at him.

"What is this place, Corin? I don't recall you ever bringing me here before."

The man grinned somewhat ruefully and ran a hand through his tousled blonde hair.

"No. I didn't."

The woman looked as though she was about to speak again, but before she even opened her mouth, two squirming figures pushed past the grownups and burst into the glen at breakneck speed. One was a boy with hair a shade redder than the woman's, small for his age, but with a fierce look in his dark gray eyes that warned of a fearsome temper. The other was a sturdy, fair-haired girl with a stubborn chin and very blue eyes.

"I win!" shouted the boy gleefully, turning a cartwheel and falling in a heap in a pile of leaves. "I beat you, Lu!"

"That's not true," the girl retorted with a glare. She stamped her foot. "I beat you to the opening. Daddy, tell him I beat him to the opening."

Instead of obeying, as she would've had him do, the girl's 'Daddy' strode forward purposefully and grabbed each of the children and drew them close to him.

"No fighting here, children. This is a holy place."

Both children started eyeing the ground, as if looking for holes they might fall into. The man noticed the look and sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Not that sort of…oh, never mind."

"They're your children," the woman reminded him wryly, coming to stand beside them.

"They didn't get their gullibility from me."

She raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "Oh, really?", and he gave her a look that was half irritated and half amused.

"Daddy," said the girl suddenly, tugging on his sleeve but still watching for holes in the ground, "what is this place?"

The man combed a hand through his sandy hair and let out a long sigh as his gaze caught the little stone marker on the ground and studied it long and hard.

"It is the place in which we remember a wonderful lady, long passed from this world."

"What lady?" the boy asked, attempting to squirm out of his father's arms. "The one you tell us stories about at bedtime?"

"Sometimes," the man replied with a rueful grin. "She was a queen, this lady. A valiant queen. You were named after her, Lu." This to the little blonde girl, who was staring at the marker gravely.

"Ah," the woman murmured under her breath. "I wondered when I'd see this place. Your brother said you came here often when you were younger." She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes," her husband replied distantly. "The queen was a dear friend." There was a moment of silence, as even the children seemed to appreciate the solemnity of the place. Then the man shook it off and released the two.

"Laugh and play," he whispered as they darted away, under branches and over trees, dancing in a wild game of tag. "She would've liked it that way."

_**Hey Lucy**_

As Prince Corin of Archenland slung an arm around his auburn-haired wife's shoulder, he plucked a rose from the thorny vines that tangled above the little vale—a rose the color of blushing cheeks and a Narnian sunset, and tossed it gently to the ground beside the marker.

His wife kissed him gently on the cheek, and then turned to keep the children from climbing up a rotten tree log. Corin crouched down beside the marker, stroking its rough surface tenderly with his fingers, and after a long moment, he smiled—because the pain and bitterness had been replaced by joy and fond memories. When at last the happy family turned to go, the prince gave the marker one last look, not knowing that he would never see it again.

He had no words to speak. He'd already said them all.

But he remembered, and let his last clutching hold to the past go with but a fleeting moment of regret.

_**I remember your name**_

_finis_

**Happy Hated Day of Pink! :D**


End file.
